Menu

I haven’t been reading YA as frequently as I used to. The characters tend to get on my nerves and the sentences are more likely to bother me. While The Disappearances is far from perfect, it has a unique and refreshing premise. Murphy created a story steeped in mystery laced with literary references. The amount of research and prep that went into this stories structure is impressive. And as Murphy’s debut novel, she will only strengthen her style and voice.

Aila and her brother Miles are shipped off to live with her deceased mother’s childhood friend after their father is drafted into WWl. The siblings are treated with distrust and disdain because their mother left Sterling and never came back. Aila learns their mother was blamed for a curse blanketing the town and the surrounding towns for decades. The disappearances occur every seven years. Smell disappeared first. The stars. Colors from paint and pencils. A person’s reflection. Children born into these towns grow up without these senses. When Aila and Miles arrive, they lose all of them as well.

Each disappearance could be linked back to Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets. Murphy must have read Shakespeare backward and forward to pull out just the right lines to create a story around them. Using everything she’s learned from her mother’s personal copy of Shakespeare’s collected works, Aila helps the town inventor and her new group of friends to lift the curse that has plagued the town for so long.

The Disappearances is a story that suffers from “weak ending” syndrome. The ending seemed too easy. There were questions left unanswered. Not that the story rose those questions, but I wanted to know more about why that worked or how that didn’t work. It wasn’t explored enough for me to feel completely satisfied. My final feeling is that it was good; worthwhile premise but lackluster ending.

The conclusion of a series is always bitter sweet. Even if the last book isn’t as perfect as the first one, knowing there won’t be another story in this world or with these characters is always sad. City of Miracles wraps up The Divine Cities trilogy and based on the ending, we won’t be visiting the city of Bulikov with Shara and Sigrud again.

Sigrud is always Shara’s side kick but he takes the main stage when he learns of her death. Ever loyal, he returns from exile to avenge her death (I was trying to stay away from that description, but it’s exactly what he does). Shara has never done anything simply so naturally Sigrud runs into a tangle of mysteries that envelope Shara and her daughter, Tatyana, and later Sigrud himself. We meet a plethora of new characters but some old faces join Sigrud’s mission of protecting Tatyana. (He completed his revenge on Shara’s killer within the first few chapters as efficiently as we expected.)

As much as I liked Sigrud’s character in the first two books, it wasn’t the best idea to make him the leading character. Putting Sigrud at the forefront drastically changed the dynamic of everything Bennett had previously set up. Shara’s story was steeped in politics and the war that breaks out was a centralized action scene. With Sigrud leading the way, the story became an action packed thriller. Shara was the brains and Sigrud is the brawn. Sigrud could help Shara piece together the clues and events but she was vastly more educated than him. Nothing against Sigrud, as he’s always been a great character, but it was more fun watching Shara’s brain piece together the puzzle than follow Sigrud fumble through the mysteries of Shara’s work alone.

While Sigrud made for a less than desirable main character, it was still an enjoyable book, with the right ending. This last book action at the front but it never lost its mysteries or investigation work that we all originally fell in love with. It’s nice to see the series wrapped up nicely. I haven’t read Bennett’s older stuff but it’s been added to my TBR pile.

By: Emily Coleman
I received an ARC of City of Miracles from Blogging for Books for an honest review.

There isn’t much more that can be said about Joe Hill’s Locke and Key series but I wanted to throw in my own two cents. Joe Hill is a favorite in this household; we’ve met him a couple of times. Gabriel Rodriquez was the co-creator with Hill and they made an incredible duo.

The comics medium relies heavily on dialogue, with little exposition to move the plot forward. This can make it feel as if information is being thrown at you, or one character is simply the “questions” guy or the “answer” girl. The benefits comics have is the artwork to act as exposition and bridge what is unsaid. This doesn’t always work in sync between writer and artist. But when it does, you know. There is magic happening in the first issue between Hill and Rodriquez. They dropped a horrific story in our laps and made it even harder to watch by giving us characters that are immediately human. They made us feel for the characters in the space of a few panels and that’s not as easy as it may seem.

The dynamics of this duo wouldn’t have been quite as explosive with one missing. The series works as a whole because of Hill and Rodriquez collectively. It’s tough to say one is better than the other. If Hill had partnered with a different artist, his writing would have stood out; and if Rodriquez had partnered with a different writer, his art would have stood out. Their collaboration together was the perfect storm.

Locke and Key follows a family after tragedy strikes and changes the family dynamic. Mom moves her kids to her late husband’s family home, Keyhouse, as per his wishes. Not only is the family dealing with their grief, but they now are dealing with the strange goings on Keyhouse has to offer. And it’s not for the faint of heart. This whole series is brutal and gory and heart wrenching. Tyler, Kinsey, and Bode are fighting for their lives, they’re fighting for each other, their friends, and their sanity. It’s survival against supernatural foes who have been waiting decades and centuries for the chance to escape.

Locke and Key is a top notch story from Joe Hill and an artistic masterpiece from Gabriel Rodriquez. It’s a great beginning series for new comics readers. Hill’s writing is easy to follow while still providing complete storytelling and Rodriquez’s art is crisp with details that don’t become cluttered or overwhelming. I’m ashamed it took me so long to read it but I hope you won’t wait much longer to read Locke and Key.

Emma Rios has accumulated a closet full of creative hats she’s been rotating through. In 2015, Rios and Brandon Graham co-created ISLAND MAGAZINE, with the distribution help of IMAGE COMICS. ISLAND MAGAZINE is an oversized comic anthology published monthly. I.D. was published in ISLAND MAGAZINE’s first issue and was published as a standalone trade in June 2016.

Rios used red and white throughout the entire trade. I couldn’t help but think of rust colored dried blood. It gives the story an unsettling quality go to along with the plot. The cover art are interlaced tubes that look like brain synopsis. The artwork is classic Rios style, detailed and busy. Each page is filled with overlapping panels and small, sometimes no gutter space between. She uses body language as much as the dialogue to portray the characters inner turmoil. Rios opens with two beautiful pages in bubble panels. The first bubble shows the three characters sitting at a café table but they are clearly strangers from each other. The next page is a three by five bubble panel spread of individual close ups. She’s biting her nails, he’s adjusting his glasses, Ze is sweating nervously. These two pages raise a lot of questions.

I.D. is about body transplants. Specifically brain transplants into a new body. It’s experimental and scientists and surgeons are taking volunteers. Charlotte, Mike, and Noa are the next round of volunteers to undergo this risky procedure. Each character confesses their reasons for it but it’s clear there is more to it for each of them. Rios shows this with the expert use of body language in relation to the other characters and the continued use of close ups. Each character acts pensive and guarded even after confessing their reasons for volunteering. Like there are more layers to each story. I haven’t heard if Rios has any plans to continue this story but has plenty of material to work with.

It’s hard to say I.D. is great because of its plot or because of its characters. Both are excellent. If you weaken one part or the other, the story would simply be okay. I’m very impressed with this work from Emma Rios. It would be great if she decided to continue this story but I get the feeling she’s done. And I also respect that. These characters are unique in their own right and the story is a big “what if?” It’s a fun “what if?” It’s hard to gush about this story without giving it all away but I want to gush, so please read it so we can gush together.

By Emily Coleman
(This review has been previously published and has been moved to this platform for your convenience.)

Essex County by Jeff Lemire has crawled into my blood, my veins, my very being, and changed me. And the daunting aspect of writing this review is, nothing I say will do this piece of literature the justice it deserves. Everything about Essex County and its characters is beautiful, and lonely, and stark, and satisfying, and real. There is magic flowing between these pages that made its way into my heart and mind and I know will never leave.

Jeff Lemire uses three short stories and two flash fiction stories to tell the lives of everyday characters living outside of Ontario, Canada. There is nothing easy about their lives but they bear it with solemn dignity. Lester is living with Uncle Ken after his mother passes away but Uncle Ken doesn’t know what to do with a kid and doesn’t understand Lester’s love of superhero’s or comics; Vincent and Lou played hockey together, then a betrayal kept the brothers apart until tragedy brought them back to the family farm together; and Mrs. Quenneville who visits her husband every week in the cemtry, a son living with her who wants nothing to do with her, and she is the country nurse who visits elderly farmers, the nursing home, the forgotten, with little appreciation. These may be three separate stories but Lemire has weaved and looped their lives into tangles and each character makes an appearance in each other’s stories. Because like any other small farming community, their lives are connected.

The two flash fiction pieces show a little earlier Essex County history. The boxing club was started by two best friends and meant as a simple pastime for the community and would remain a pastime no matter what; and Eddy Elephant Ears who spent the last 10 years in a coma after a violent car crash that killed his family, but it’s okay because he doesn’t remember them. Even Mrs. Quenneville makes an appearance in Eddy’s story.

Essex County is a portrayal of the heartbreaking and the heartbroken; through the ups and downs, each character has persevered until their end. There is a strong family connection as well. Uncle Ken might not know how to raise a child but he’s going to try his damnest because he promised his sister he would. Jimmy might have messed up his chance of being a better father but he gives up his box of memories because the boys “still got a right to know who he is.” Mrs. Quenneville has made her patients her family whether they asked for it or not because her “patients are all I have these days. They’re like my family now, I guess.”
Lemire’s art is both loose and detailed. “Tales From The Farm” has an almost sketched quality while “Ghost Stories” seamlessly moves from present to past to present. Some panels are overlapped in the past and present simultaneously and some panels float away like the memories they are. “The Country Nurse’s” artwork is a little tighter from the first two stories. One artist element Lemire has mastered are the character’s eyes. I’ve never seen such emotion in beady little eyes. Lemire also uses numerous panels to evoke emotion like isolation and loneliness. Essex County is a quiet representation of everyday life and what they do to survive it.

By Emily Coleman
(This review has been previously published and has been moved to this platform for your convenience.)

The Stranger in the Woods caught me off guard. The back cover sounded interesting enough to pick up and while I don’t read much nonfiction, but one seemed worth while. Michael Finkel’s writing hooked me and I fell under a calming trance during the story.

As much as I love being with friends and family, I appreciate solitude. Nothing is better than a quiet apartment a book. And still better, my family’s farm in rural Minnesota. Moving to New York helped remind me what real silence is like. Whenever I visit home, I walk the perimeter of our property and listen to the quiet, feel the stillness, talk to the cats. The Stranger in the Woods is like that; its slow, its quiet.

Christopher Knight lived for 27 years in the middle of the Maine woods. He robbed local cabins to supply himself with food and provisions. Knight was finally arrested when he was caught stealing from a camp and forced to reenter society. The story itself is true so I don’t want to comment on it, but I will talk a little on the execution.

Michael Finkel starts the story with a fiction narration style about the night Christopher Knight was arrested. From there, Finkel devolves to facts about Knight’s court case, doctors diagnosis’ of Knights intense introvert personality, and his own fascination with the whole situation.It seems odd that Finkel would leave his family in Colorado to travel to Maine several times while Knight is incarcerated, until he reveals he’s a journalist who has written similar pieces about “hermits” for National Geographic. Finkel spends a decent amount of the book talking about hermits throughout the centuries and from different cultures. Knight doesn’t fit the hermit mold, and I think this is what interested Finkel. People didn’t know what to do with Knight. He committed hundreds of counts of burglaries but didn’t hurt anyone physically. No one even saw him physically. Half the victims didn’t seem to mind, given rural Maine’s own code of ethics, and the other half were furious with him. There was no clean cut way to convict him.

Knight was a mystery to everyone and Finkel portrayed him as such. At times I would admire Knight and in the next paragraph be reminded that Knight isn’t the nicest person. He wants nothing to do with other people and isn’t cowed into expressing otherwise. For the reader who sticks with fiction, The Stranger in the Woods doesn’t have a tangible ending like you expect from most fiction. Knight is adamant that him and Finkel aren’t friends, and Finkel should never contact him again. So Finkel goes home, and that’s the end of the story. Finkel saw Knight reintroduced to society through to the end and that’s probably as far as the story will go.

There wasn’t closure, per se. Knight has disappeared into society as best he can. His story is still a moral dilemma.I don’t know if I can whole heartily decide if he should have been punished or not. I can say with conviction that I thoroughly enjoyed The Stranger in the Woods. It reminded me that silence does still exist, and
how filling and calming silence can be. I sort of understand why Knight fully cocooned himself in the woods. His silent story made me nostalgic for the farm and I know my mother would love a visit from her bit city daughter.